


fluoxetine

by ainui



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, jeremy is taller than michael, sorry i dont make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 05:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainui/pseuds/ainui
Summary: Jeremy's patience, as it turns out, is not unlimited.//michael hasn't been taking his meds and jeremy isn't an idiot





	fluoxetine

Jeremy's patience, as it turns out, is not unlimited.

It's on a rainy Saturday morning that he figures this out. Something about the pattering of rain drops on the sole basement window and the quiet theme song of Super Smash Bros makes everything a little more comfortable, and Michael just  _knew_ Jeremy would say something. Days like this are best spent working out kinks in relationships anyway.

"Are you gonna tell me what's been up with you lately?"

Michael doesn't want to see Jeremy's stormy gaze focused on him, so he skims through the stages again. "Wasn't planning on it. Final Destination or Battlefield?"

There's a brief hesitation, and Michael doesn't even have to look, he knows Jeremy is biting his lip in worry. "Michael..."

Nope. Not today. He refuses to fall victim to that stupid pout. "Jere, if you don't pick a stage I'm making you play as Jigglypuff. It's ass o'clock in the morning and I really don't want to have a heart to heart, alright?" He's almost surprised at the firmness of his voice, given the fact that all he wants to do is to zip up his hoodie and sink so far into his worn-down beanbag that he never has to see the light of day again.

It was one of those days.

Or more accurately, one of those months, because he'd forgotten his meds way too often since the Squip. Honestly, who can focus on taking pills when their best friend was essentially possessed by a robot that "just really messed with me, I swear, I'll never ditch you again, Micah." Even when he did remember, he brushed it aside, dismissing the thought as trivial.

It's not like Michael didn't expect Jeremy to notice; after 12 years of friendship that's not even a possibility. He just thought that maybe if he pushed the problem aside long enough it would go away. It was a stupid thought, in hindsight.

Before he even registers Jeremy moving beside him, the music shuts off and the TV goes blank, and there isn't anything to hide behind. "Jeremy, what the hell?" he asks, turning angrily towards his friend.

"Seriously dude, what is it?" He can already hear his friend's rising concern turning into anger. "You know I won't judge you or anything. Just... what is it? Did you relapse?"

Michael feels his face get hot. He hates when Jeremy brings that up. "No, Jere. I'm fine. Just fuzzy, you know?"

Fuzzy. Code for the days when getting out of bed feels like the most monumental task, and anything else is next to impossible.

"Not really, because last time I checked, you don't feel 'fuzzy' for weeks on end, Micah."

"It's called depression, actually."

He jumps when Jeremy throws his arms in the air exasperatedly. "Dude, just work with me! I'm worried about you! You never tell me anything anymore, and I'm sorry if it's my fault, but I just need to know what's wrong with you. It's driving me crazy." The taller boy is inches away, leaning haphazardly over Michael's curled form. Worry is evident in his face. It doesn't suit him.

Michael gives.

Okay. Deep breath. "I'm... off my meds. Like, not the way I'm supposed to be."

The mood shift is almost immediate, and Jeremy is laying next to Michael on the small strip of the chair that's still open. "You stopped taking them?"

"I guess. Kind of on accident, but yeah." He feels a pale hand brush his own.

"Dude, that's dangerous-"

"Yes, Jere, I know. This is kind of exactly why I didn't want to tell you," he snaps, pulling his own hand away. "I kept forgetting them and the days I didn't have them sucked so bad in comparison to the normal ones and I just really didn't want to keep doing that, so. I stopped. And it's fine. Everything still fucking sucks but it's fine." He can feel himself sinking into the chair. He closes his eyes. Maybe he can pretend like Jeremy isn't there to highlight how badly he's fucked up lately.

It almost works, but then he feels his left sleeve being pushed up to the elbow, and he pulls away with a yelp. When he opens his eyes, Jeremy is sitting there with his hands hovering over Michael's own, looking overwhelmed with relief when he only sees old scabs.

"Was that really necessary? I told you I didn't relapse," he hisses, yanking his sleeve back down.

"I had to make sure."

The room falls into silence again, and honestly, all he wants is his best friend. Even if it hurts.

"Jeremy?"

"Hm?"

"I'm really scared of losing you again."

Jeremy's eyes light up, a subtle smile gracing his features. "Micah, I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever, okay?" He wraps his lanky arms around Michael's torso, mumbling into his shoulder. "Never again. I love you."

Michael thinks he might believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> george salazar literally calls it being fuzzy. he says to roll a lint roller all over your soul. i am not making this up. WATCH IT 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Plqp9GMQfw
> 
> anyway thanks for reading this shit. i switched tenses like 4 times and proofreading was a bitch so i kinda just gave up


End file.
